


Plumbing

by Sasha713



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-12
Updated: 2011-06-12
Packaged: 2017-10-20 08:38:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/210845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sasha713/pseuds/Sasha713
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All he'd said to trigger this moment was "I'll be taking over Hammond's job in D.C." (Post-Threads cabin scene)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plumbing

He’d had no expectations when he had invited her up to his cabin to go fishing. No ideas in his head about getting her naked and below him. No presumptions.

Her dad had just died, and her relationship with Pete had deteriorated all in the same week, so all he’d wanted was to give her a calm moment to recover from the harsh lash of the storm that had passed.

He had been determined –desperate even- to get her away from the stress of the SGC. Away from Colorado Springs.

Like some twisted part of him had known the inevitability of this. Had known that she wouldn’t be able to hold herself caged behind the rigidly placed lines that had dictated them.

But still, he’d had no expectation…but now he was starting to think that expectation was overrated, because she’d just surpassed every damn one of them, expectations, hopes, desires. Fantasies. Because she had kissed him.

But, God, he thought, what a way to blow the regs that had leashed them out the proverbial airlock.

She had him pressed to the back of the bathroom door, her lips on his, sucking his bottom lip in a decidedly sinful manner and delving her tongue into his mouth to tangle with his (who knew she was _this_ talented with her tongue) while rubbing and pressing against him.

His brows had shot into his hairline (he was sure of it) the moment she had glanced at the backdoor before pushing him bodily into the bathroom, not even hesitating to pull him down into this shattering kiss (Earth. Soul. Heart? All of the above? Hell, maybe it was even _universe_ shattering).

He hadn’t even considered protesting, even though that had been his first instinct (he had a moment of recollection which involved a locker room and a virus for a split second) because before he had even been able to find the words –of any kind- he was sure his brain function had short-circuited, the blood rushing immediately south.

She always had a plan. He figured she'd probably heard his thoughts and dispatched an assault on his higher brain function. _Resourceful Carter_.

Figures that the one thing that would betray him was his body –but, damn, he was not even in the _vicinity_ of caring right now.

Because she tasted like Carter.

Familiar and yet new. And hot. Sooo hot. (Not that ‘ _hot’_ was actually a taste –although he knew after this moment it damn well should be).

It took him a moment, but he recognised the fact that he was _kissing her back_.

It was a vague realisation, one that should have derailed this because he couldn’t be kissing her back. Shouldn’t be… But he was, and he recognised that it was a step in the right direction even though her timing was kind of…actually, her timing couldn’t be more perfect. Cabin. A week off. Minimal witnesses.

 _‘Reciprocation = good.’_ His mind provided ever so helpfully.

He had just gotten over the taste of Carter and the feel of her pressed up against him when he realised another pertinent fact.

His hands were on bare skin. Under her shirt. How had that happened? Ah screw it, he didn’t care.

He ran his fingers up her spine, fingers curving around her soft skin (He’d imagined how soft her skin would be so many times but _this_ …sooo much better).

She pressed further against him, his back wedged against the door, his side jammed against the side of the glass shower door, the discomfort something he decided he could live with –because her fingers had found their way beneath his flannel shirt to his abdomen, dancing across his skin to the edge of his waistband.

He reached up and cupped her face, his thumb at the edge of their locked lips as he eased back, panting heavily as he leaned his head back far enough to look at her. Maybe even stop this before it got out of control.

What he saw made a rough groan rise from his chest.

Those blue eyes seeped in deep lust, the hue darker with sunken desire, her lips kiss-reddened, his stubble having scraped at her soft skin. _‘Marked,’_ some inner dominator whispered and he felt an answering beat of approval from the rest of him.

“I thought…you wanted more _beer_.” He found himself saying inanely, for some reason his mind reverting to the _why_ of which he was inside…with Carter…and her tongue. She had lured him inside with her need for “help” to get more “beer” for the esky outside. He should have known she had ulterior motives.

“This is better than beer.” She replied simply and he had to agree.

“ _Unexpected_ …but sooo much better.”

And that was it for the talking.

He hoped.

His lips claiming hers once more, leaning back more fully into the door, her curves pressed to every inch of his frame. He liked having her this close.

The switched on part of his brain (some dim corner barely ever used) recognised that this was not the way he should be doing this, despite the fact that he had always let her decide. Let her set the pace (And, boy, was she setting it!)

But this was Carter, and she really did deserve more than a quick screw against his bathroom door.

He should be stopping this. Had to stop this….(Annny minute now.) even though he would like nothing more than to turn her around and slam into her as deeply as he possibly could –bury himself in her tight heat and _finally_ feel something he’d only ever fantasised about. He’d always figured he would feel peace when it finally happened between them. Like a place he could go to rest and not worry about anything besides the feel of her surrounding him after so long with only imagery and heartbreak.

But she wasn’t some fantasy. She was real, and he’d be damned if he would give into his urges and made this merely some ‘sex’ thing.

He vaguely realised how sentimental his thoughts were, and he was sure that somewhere, every man that had ever had a thing for Samantha Carter (there were too many of those –not that he could blame them)  would be demanding why he was even considering giving up a chance to fulfil his fantasies right _now_.

Maybe he _was_ crazy.

He guessed he felt more for her than he had first realised.

But it wasn’t only his sentimental thoughts that were stopping him (eventually) from doing this. He didn’t want Daniel or Teal’c to find out about _this_ , when he himself wasn’t sure what exactly _this_ was leading to besides some pretty damned fantastic cabin-sex.

Either one of them could walk into the cabin looking for them and find them sequestered behind the bathroom door. Together. He’d love to hear Carter explain that fact away.

He doubted very much that they could convince even Daniel that he’d merely wanted Carter’s help with a “plumbing” problem and that yes, it _was_ necessary for the door to be firmly closed.

She pulled her lips from his then, pushing his flannel shirt slightly aside to press her mouth to his collarbone, a moan drifting up to him from where she was kissing, and his head thudded back against the door.

He cradled the back of her head in his palm (even her hair felt softer than he had imagined –was there anything about her that _wouldn’t_ feel better?)

“Not that this isn’t…” He groaned, trailing off as her hip pressed against him through his pants, sending need unravelling inside him. Why was he speaking again? She hummed against his skin, and he slipped his hand further up her side, his thumb stroking the underside of her breast without his volition. And all he’d said to trigger off this erotic attack had been _“I’m taking over Hammond’s job in D.C.”_ It had seemed like such an _un_ sexual thing at the time.

 _‘Focus,’_ his mind snapped.

“Stop…” he forced out, the only word in his head right now that was even close to the right one (“please”, “Crap”, and “Carter” the only other options).

But she didn’t stop (he blamed it on the reluctant, half-hearted tone of his voice) seeming to be lost in the haze of this unbelievably _quintessential_ moment.

“Carter… _please_ stop…” her teeth grazed against his skin as her hip shifted against his hard-on and he muttered a sharp and gruff “Ah, crap…” as he cupped her breast fully, squeezing the plump flesh, unable to help the involuntary action, his thumb skimming over the lace material and unerringly finding the hard tip of her nipple without a visual (he’d been told he was good with his hands).

She lifted her head, her hand trembling slightly as she reached for his belt buckle, a decidedly focused expression on her face –one she usually reserved for stubborn _quarks_.

Huh.

Maybe he _did_ fit the profile.

“In a rush?” he asked mildly, finally getting a hold of himself enough to mutter those words, passing his thumb once more over her hidden peak, liking the little tremor she gave each time he did that. Her eyes met his and he had to remind himself to breathe in this little moment between moments, almost convinced that she was about to pull away. Condemn this moment as a severe lapse in judgement. Temporary insanity. Influence of an alien kind.

But then she smiled. A small self-conscious smile which speared right into him, the fondness and amusement he could see in her expression making this whole fishing trip worth it.

“I would hardly call eight years _rushed_ Jack.”

He had to give her that.

“Eight years you say?” he asked feeling his heart stutter in his chest at that soft admittance of _something_. At first, it had been just attraction, but then, as the years had passed…it had grown into something that he hadn’t been willing to admit…even to himself. She was right.

“Oh yes.” She responded with a teasing light in her eyes, and some part of him wondered if she was mocking him.

“All relative right?” he asked the fingers of his other hand rubbing up and down her back slowly, taking in the feel of her under his palms. He was sure that he hadn’t considered this in all his plans to get her ass up to his cabin. Wasn’t he sure?

“Yes Sir.” She said.

“Carter…” he admonished fondly, raising a brow and splaying his hand out before placing it on her hip again, flexing his fingers there to get her closer than she already was, pressed tightly to him so he could ease some of the ache in his…

“Sorry.” She said sheepishly at her slip.

“Jack? Sam? The fish aren’t going to catch themselves…” Daniel’s voice drifted to them from somewhere in the cabin. If Jack had to guess, he would be near the back door, boots on hard wood coming closer.

Damn it.

“I knew I’d regret it.” He murmured, dipping his head slightly, his lips kissing the side of her neck, tasting the skin he’d wanted to taste for more years than he could count. He closed his eyes, trying to _will_ Daniel away, breathing her in as she reached up and stroked her fingers through the hair at his nape. (Where the hell had his hat gone?)

“Regret what?” she asked against his ear, the tremble in her voice as he ran the side of his nose across her jaw making a smile edge onto his face. He sooo still had it.

“Not _shooting_ Daniel years ago.” He replied, taking enjoyment with the small laugh she huffed against the side of his neck, her cheek brushing his.

He knew that this little moment of theirs was about to end.

He removed his hand from her breast (had she just protested?), drawing her closer to him, liking how this felt familiar. Holding her.

This moment wasn’t about comfort, however, like all the times before when he’d been able to have her in his embrace.

“Ah…guys?” Daniel began, obviously finding their hiding spot. “You in there?” Daniel asked, his voice sounding slightly hesitant now.

So the man wasn’t completely lost.

“Daniel…” Jack warned with a growl and he felt Carter shake. She was laughing! Soo not the reaction he wanted when he was pressed so intimately against her. Not like he could exactly hide his reaction.

“I’ll ah…come back?” Daniel replied, obviously retreating.

“Give us a minute.” He called out, his head hitting the door again.

“Just a minute?” she teased, lifting her head, eyes alight with mirth.

“Easy Carter…you might put me off my game.” He whispered back. She grinned, stifling her laughter, blushing slightly at his implication.

“We’d better…” she motioned to the door.

“Yeah.” He didn’t want to.

“Beer. Fishing. Cake.” She began to list off, trying to make him see the merits of _leaving_ the bathroom when he showed signs of reluctance.

“Now, you see…those things _were_ topping my list…” he said.

“And now?” she asked, meeting his gaze.

“Now I wish I hadn’t demanded Daniel and T come with us.” He replied honestly, getting another grin from her. He had the sudden idea that sending them home _right now_ would be the best option.

They reluctantly released each other, the moment broken (for now) and she opened the door a little before turning to face him when he didn’t move from leaning against the sink.

“Aren't you coming?” She asked, her brow furrowing, a knowing little smirk on her lips. _Minx_.

“Obviously _not._ Thus why I need a few minutes.”

His meaning made her blush, and bite her lip, the starting of an amused smile stifled as she cleared her throat and looked down, clearly struggling to remain composed.

“Yes sir. Of course.” She said, a devilish gleam in her eyes.

He glared at her, reaching for her with a growl and backing _her_ into the door. Turnabout was fair play after all.

*******************************

Later that night, after celebratory drinks and cake (It was, after all, an occasion. No apocalypse around the corner. No epic bad guys bent on galactic domination. His promotion… he would not cringe at that. He wouldn’t) Daniel glanced between them where he sat on the lounge and where she stood, having just gotten to her feet, obviously noticing the way that they took each and every opportunity they could get to brush up against each other, or “accidentally” touch each other. And he was smirking. _Knowingly_.

“So…plumbing problems, huh?” he asked mildly, eyes alight with mischief.

They froze as he handed her the empty glass that had been sitting on the coffee table, his fingers momentarily tangled with hers around the cup.

Jack had known the man wouldn’t buy their lame excuse for their bathroom moment.

He shrugged as he picked up his beer, taking a small sip, smiling a self-indulgent smile, edging onto his lips when he glanced at Carter who seemed like she was content to look at _anything_ but Daniel –or him for that matter.

“Not buying it, eh?” He said simply, watching as she retreated into the kitchen, leaving him to deal with Daniel.

“It is quite obvious O’Neill.” Teal’c intoned from across the room where he was reading, seemingly engrossed in the magazine he held (he was pretty sure he’d seen an alien on the cover).

“Nuts.” He said, leaning back slightly, unable to help the full blown grin that slid onto his face. Yeah, getting Carter to the cabin had been worth it. Plumbing assistance or not…

.fin.


End file.
